


As your shadow crosses mine

by WinterRose527



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: @ me why don't you?, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, background jonsa, she's a stripper with a heart of gold people, yes that's right - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRose527/pseuds/WinterRose527
Summary: Robb pretends to be Jon. Myrcella is a stripper. ANTICS ENSUE.It's smut and a little bit else, but you know. Cues 'I'm in love with a stripper' on Spotify.Gifted to MissSnow who left this prompt in my inbox. Hope you enjoy lady! xx





	As your shadow crosses mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MissSnow).



“Alright, alright, alright,” Theon said with a maniacal grin, “Next stop - _the strip club!_ ”

 

The men let out hoots and hollers as they made their way down the street. They’d just finished dinner at a steak house in downtown Wintertown and it was becoming obvious with every step that they hadn’t eaten nearly enough for the amount of scotch that they’d drank.

 

“Look uh, guys, I’m sorry to do this,” Jon said, clapping him on the shoulder, “But that steak is hitting me all wrong. I think I’m going to have to call it…”

 

“But it’s _your_ bachelor party,” Grenn reminded him.

 

“DO NOT DO THIS TO ME,” Theon shouted at him.

 

“Theon, calm down,” Sam said, “We’ll still go to the strip club with you, won’t we gentleman?”

 

Robb looked around at the motley crew assembled. It was him, and Theon, who had known Jon since preschool, Sam and Grenn who worked with him, Gendry, who’d been their friend since high school and was now dating Robb’s youngest sister Arya, and Tormund a friend… well none of them were actually sure _where_ Jon had met Tormund, only that he had.

 

They all looked game, even Gendry who looked a bit nervous, but Sam was looking at him expectantly so he nodded.

 

“‘Course we will,” Robb nodded and brought Jon into a hug, clapping him on the back, “Feel better, mate.”

 

“Thanks man,” Jon said, clapping him back, “Don’t go falling in love with any strippers.”

 

Robb chuckled and promised before walking towards Theon who still seemed very distressed that the plan might be falling apart. He patted him on the cheek, his hand on his shoulder until Theon nodded.

 

The rest of the guys said their goodbyes to Jon and he walked down the street one way while they headed towards the club.

 

“This is _so_ like Jon,” Theon grumbled, “I arranged a private dance for him and _everything_.”

 

“You fucking what?,” Robb growled at him.

 

It was one thing for them to all go and _look_ at the strippers, it was another thing for Jon to be in a room alone with one. Baelish’s back rooms were notorious for all sorts of illicit behaviour and Jon was marrying his little sister after all.

 

“Dude, calm down,” Theon argued, “Jon would’ve probably spent the whole time telling her how she didn’t have to sell her body and trying to come up with a five year plan so that she could pursue a career in who fucking gives a shit.”

 

Robb chuckled, because it was true. He would have been terrified in one of those back rooms.

 

“Well you’ve already paid, right?,” Gendry said, “So it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? One of you’s got to pretend to be Jon.”

 

They all looked at one another, sizing each other up. The only person Robb wouldn’t put forward was Gendry, because even though Arya’d chop his balls of if he so much as smelled like stripper, she was still his little sister and he had to do what he could to protect her.

 

“Well the obvious choice is Robb,” Sam said.

 

“ _Me?_ ” he asked at the same time Theon said “ _Him?_ ”

 

“Jon’s marrying _your_ sister after all, seems only fair to uh… keep it in the family, as it were?,” Sam said in that way of his where the octave of his voice rose towards the end of his sentence as his words started jumbling together like he was out of breath. His face was all red too. After years of being friends with all of them he still seemed frightened half the time.

 

“Seems fair,” Tormund nodded. Grenn and Gendry too.

 

“This is unfuckingbelievable,” Theon sighed.

 

Robb had no intention of taking them up on it, but he couldn’t help taking the piss out of Theon a bit first. So he merely grinned and shrugged, as though he’d consider it.

 

They kept walking towards the club and he fell into step beside Sam.

 

“This is bullshit,” Robb said and Sam peered over him, “There’s no way Jon is sick.”

 

Sam colored and leaned in closer, “If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone?” Robb nodded and Sam stepped even closer, “He went to go see Sansa.”

 

Robb stopped walking and closed his eyes and chuckled. Of course he fucking did.

 

Jon was a total fool for Sansa and hated being apart from her. He wasn’t entirely sure _what_ his little sister had done to his best friend and he wasn’t entirely sure that he _wanted_ to know but he was a puppet on her string.

 

“Nothing quite so pitiful as a man in love, huh?,” he asked Sam who smiled and nodded.

 

They got to the strip club, though you’d hardly know it. It was in a brick townhouse in a nice part of Wintertown, full of posh families. It was a bit like a speakeasy, in the sense that you could only get in if you knew the password, which changed nightly.

 

Luckily for them, Theon made it his habit to know such things.

 

They went up to the townhouse and used the mockingbird door knocker to tap the door three times. A tall woman with curly red hair answered the door in a silk robe.

 

“May I help you?,” she asked, feigning a yawn.

 

Theon looked tongue-tied so Tormund hit him, “H-hey Ros,” he practically cooed.

 

Ros lifted her eyebrows at him, giving away nothing, “May I help you… gentlemen?”

 

Grenn punched Theon and he coughed, “I-ice and fire.”

 

Ros broke into a warm smile and opened the door wider, stepping aside, “Please do come in, gentlemen. Paradise awaits…”

 

They walked in one by one. He’d never been to one of Baelish’s places but he was surprised to see that even on the inside it looked like it was made to be in this area, with tasteful, rich furnishings. Ros lead them intowhat appeared to be a living room and it was only then that you realised what kind of place you were really in.

 

Girls in various states of undress and men in various states of disarray were littered about. Alcohol seemed to flow freely, and two women were dancing together, their soft bodies up against one another.

 

“What did I _fucking_ tell you?,” Theon practically squealed. He turned to him and said, “Don’t you feel like this is probably the right speed for you? I mean… a private room and everything…”

 

He chuckled and said, “Relax man, I-“

 

“Ah gentlemen,” a voice cut into their conversation and he turned to see a middle aged man with a simpering smile on his face. “Welcome, friends, welcome. I’ve arranged something very special for you this evening.”

 

 _I’m sure_ , Robb rolled his eyes.

 

“Darling,” he snapped his fingers at Ros, “Bring her in.” Ros disappeared and the man turned back to them, “We call this one _The Young Doe_ , for she is as innocent as a babe in the woods, as pure as freshly fallen snow…”

 

 _I’m sure_ , Robb rolled his eyes again turning to look at Gendry who was doing the same thing.

 

“Ahhh there you are, my dear,” the man said and Robb’s head turned back curiously.

 

 _Holy fuck_.

 

She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, with soft golden waves and large green eyes. She was slender, almost impossibly so, and wore a light blue silk robe. Her head was bowed slightly, but she glanced up at them all curiously.

 

He saw that all the men had perked up at the sight of her, not just his friends, but all the men in the room. Her presence demanded it.

 

“So which one of you is Jon Snow?,” the man asked.

 

“Me!,” he shouted, before he could think better of it, “Me, that’s me, I’m…I’m Jon Snow.”

 

“ _Motherfucker!_ ” Theon growled in his ear.

 

***

 

She didn’t look at the man who identified as Jon Snow. It was easier that way, if she didn’t look at them, it made it easier to forget how she spent her nights.

 

She turned on her heel and held her hand out for him. He took hers, holding it gently, as though it was made of glass.

 

_A timid one, thank goodness._

 

She brought him up the stairs to _her room_ , where she always performed such acts. Her actual room was one floor up, in a back wing of the house where she and a few of the other women stayed rent free. _Rent free, hah!_

 

She made sure this one stayed clean though, she was horrified by some of the other rooms in this establishment that reeked of sex and alcohol.

 

She closed the door behind them, and closed her eyes, relishing in the quiet for a moment.

 

“So, Jon,” she purred, “Is it your birthday or something?”

 

“Something like that,” the man said sheepishly.

 

She chose to believe it. It was easier to pretend not to be disgusted by the men if she didn’t have to think about their girlfriends or fiancés waiting at home for them.

 

She turned and smiled, and he was so much further away than she’d expected him to be, that she couldn’t help but look at his face. His startlingly attractive face.

 

“Oh!,” she exclaimed.

 

“What is it?,” he asked her, that handsome face of his contorted in concern.

 

“N-nothing,” she said, shaking her head, then gave him a warm smile, realising he might like to hear her thoughts, “You’re just much younger than the men usually are… and much more handsome.”

 

He chuckled and said, “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

 

She didn’t, actually. She never had. Usually she never spoke at all, they seemed to prefer it. When she spoke they heard the breeding in her voice, she sounded like their daughters, their girlfriends. It became harder to enjoy her that way.

 

She wondered if her father thought twice when he came to establishments like this.

 

_Not your father. He’s not your father._

 

“In this case it’s true,” she said with a smile, “Would you like anything to drink?”

 

“No, no thank you,” he said politely, looking around, “It’s a nice room.”

 

“I’m glad you like it,” she said, “Please make yourself comfortable.”

 

He looked around and scratched his head. He seemed to be debating where to sit, there was the couch and then a couple of chairs. He really did seem nervous.

 

She decided to give him the time to make his choice without staring at him, and she went over to the small table where there was an mp3 player. She scrolled through and chose a song that was modern but sultry, with an easy beat to follow.

 

She turned to find him sitting in one of the oversized chairs, his eyes locked on her.

 

“So, Jon,” she said, stepping towards him slowly. She let the strings of her silk robe fall through her fingers. “Have you ever been in one of these rooms before?”

 

“No uh,” he shook his head, “It’s my first time here.”

 

He really was handsome, the kind of clients the girls dreamed about when they came into these rooms and did the things that would have this establishment shut down if word got out.

 

Myrcella never did such things though.

 

“And what do you think of it so far?,” she asked, pulling one of the strings and letting her robe fall open.

 

His gaze wandered over her body in a way that made her skin feel like it was on fire.

 

“It’s paradise,” he breathed out.

 

“You’re sweet,” she said, letting out a breathy chuckle and letting her robe fall to the floor, leaving her in only her lacy light blue bralet and matching boyshorts, having discarded her shoes on the way over. She placed her hands on his shoulders and fell against him, her chest pressed against his. She raised her hand to his cheek and said honestly, “And you really are very handsome. So I’ll tell you what… I’m going to break my rules, just this once. You won’t tell anyone will you?”

 

He shook his head, his gaze falling to her lips which were only inches from his. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair and his every muscle was flexed.

 

“That’s good,” she said, her finger trailing down and stroking his Adam’s Apple which moved as he swallowed hard. “So good that you can touch me, if you want to.”

 

“Do you want me to?,” he asked, his voice like gravel.

 

She smiled at him, biting her tongue from asking _Does it matter_? And pushed herself off of him.

 

She started dancing to the music, her hips moving to the sultry beat. She turned to her side, looking at him as her butt nearly hit the floor before coming up again.

 

He groaned and she smiled to herself. _So he’s an ass man_.

 

She turned away from him, continuing to dance and she felt his fingers on her waist, not holding her, but brushing up her sides.

 

Her body was covered in goosebumps instantly and she needed to take back control, so she fell back against him, her back against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder. She let her hair spill over him and she ground her butt against him.

 

“Holy fuck,” he growled in her ear, his hand now gripping her waist.

 

She didn’t like what that voice did to her, didn’t like how good his hand felt holding her possessively.

 

She rolled her hips against him and she could feel him growing harder. It felt like victory, to make him rise for her. She wasn’t sure why he was affecting her like this, she tried to tell herself that he was disgusting, that he paid women for their company, but she couldn’t seem to stop her body from reacting to his.

 

“Will you,” he started in a low voice.

 

“Tell me,” she prompted, taking his large hand and bringing it to her thigh.

 

He took her direction and squeezed it and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

 

“Turn around?,” he asked, his other hand finding her hip, “I’ve only got a few more minutes to look at that face of yours.”

 

Her chest warmed at his words. She wasn’t sure any of them ever looked at her face, and she stood back up, fighting to gain control of herself before she turned back around.

 

She whipped her head around and smiled at him softly as her hair fell all around her.

 

“Holy fuck,” he let out again.

 

***

 

“Holy fuck,” he breathed.

 

She was a goddess, he was sure of it. He wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up in a place like this. Everything about her screamed that she was too good for it.

 

Her voice sounded like money and there was too much wisdom in those green eyes of hers, and it made it all the sexier. It felt like… it felt like it was his girlfriend putting on a show for him.

 

_Damn it Stark, don’t fall in love with a stripper._

 

She placed her hands on his shoulders and climbed into his lap, straddling him. She smelled like something flowery and up close her face was poreless and perfect.

 

“Is this better?,” she asked in that sweet voice of hers.

 

He nodded stupidly and she started moving her hips to the beat again. He was painfully hard at this point and he stifled a groan when she pressed herself against his cock.

 

“It’s meant to feel good,” she reminded him, one finger tracing down the side of his cheek and under his chin, pulling it up just slightly, “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

 

It sounded like a line, but her green eyes were wide and her bottom lip fell down slightly, so that he could just see her light pink tongue. He wanted to taste that tongue.

 

He nodded at her and she smiled at him, rocking her body again, painfully slowly.

 

“Did you forget what I said?,” she asked, her hand running down his chest, the other disappearing in his hair. “You can touch me… if you want to…”

 

He wanted to, oh gods how he wanted to.

 

He trailed his fingers down the soft skin of her spine and she was very good, worth every penny, because she actually shivered for him.

 

She ground against him more purposefully and his hands went to her hips, gripping her.

 

“Fucking hell,” he practically growled, “You’re going to unman me.”

 

She giggled softly and whispered in his ear, “Oh I don’t know,” she said, rubbing herself against his cock, “You feel like a man to me.”

 

Now he did growl and his hands cupped her ass, her perfect, mother-may-I ass. She let out a moan and he pulled back and looked at her.

 

Her face was flushed and there was a nervous expression in her eyes. She was either a truly brilliant actress or she had felt something.

 

She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, and the lacy fabric fell down between their bodies. Her breasts were lovely, small and soft with rosebud nipples that to his delight were peaked.

 

He wasn’t sure what the rules were but she took his wrist in her hands and brought his hand up to her breast. He let his thumb trace over her nipple and she shuddered, rubbing herself against him more intensely.

 

He could feel that he was nearing his peak. He hadn’t come like this since high school, not since rolling around in Roslin Frey’s bed, but he knew he was going to. It became obvious to him though that it was entirely possible she might as well.

 

He squeezed her breast gently and she let out a moan and bit her lip, cutting it off halfway through.

 

“It was meant to feel good,” he told her in a low voice, echoing her earlier sentiment.

 

He brushed her golden hair back, revealing a delicate shoulder and he kept his eyes on hers as he leaned into press a kiss to it.

 

He was sure this was breaking the rules, but she’d said that was okay and she didn’t seem to mind it now. Her hands roamed into his hair, tugging on it gently as she bucked against him.

 

He held her hips and thrust into her. They were dry fucking, there was no other word for it. He wasn’t even sure if music was still playing, but he knew they weren’t going to any specific beat. All he could think about was that moan.

 

She kept her eyes on his as her body moved against him expertly.

 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he let out. She sighed and he went on, “So fucking pretty. Gods you feel good, oh _fuck_.”

 

“Oh _oh_ ,” she whimpered, her body now erratic against his but feeling no less incredible for it, “I -I -I’m _oh gods_.”

 

With that her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she let out a delicate cry. Her orgasm was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and he gripped her hips harshly as he exploded with a shudder.

 

His forehead fell against her shoulder as they both breathed in spasms. Her skin was covered in a light sheen and there was a flush down her neck and on her cheeks. He knew he was a mess but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He’d put on his coat and bow out of the rest of the evening, it’d be worth the teasing he’d get from his friends.

 

She shoved out of his lap and picked up the robe off the floor.

 

“I- I am _so_ sorry,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes, “Please. Please don’t tell anyone - I…”

 

“Hey, hey? What is it? What’s wrong? That was… you are….”

 

“A whore,” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry, please… just… please go… I’ll pay for this myself you’ll be refunded…”

 

“ _Refunded?_ ,” he asked. Whatever Theon had paid it wasn’t enough. That was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. Her body had fit so well with his and she’d felt so good against him. “No, no, please, I’m sorry… I took it too far I…”

 

“You didn’t,” she shook her head, “That’s exactly what is supposed to happen in these rooms I’ve just….never… I’m sorry, Jon. Please, just… I’m sorry.”

 

And with that she was gone.

 

***

 

THREE DAYS LATER

 

Myrcella walked into her literature class a few minutes early and took her seat in the third row of the lecture hall, taking out her notebook and pen.

 

She smiled to herself. It felt good to be back at school, she’d had far too much time to think the past few days about what a fool she made of herself.

 

She still wasn’t entirely sure what had come over her in that room with Jon Snow. She’d never met anyone who affected her the way he had and his strong hands on her body and his eyes on her had undone her completely.

 

_Rule number 1, Ros had told her, it’s not real._

 

It had been the easiest rule of them all to adhere to since her very first night, six months back. She’d been practically in tears and shaking when the man was brought into her. His breath had been stale, his rhetoric bawdy, and she had gone to another plane, one where she was just in a bar, dancing with her girlfriends, like any other nineteen year old girl.

 

In this fantasy Robert Baratheon had never found out about her mother’s affair, with her own brother for that matter, had never kicked her and her siblings unceremoniously out of their manor. In this fantasy she was still the golden doe, the princess of the Baratheon’s and the Lannister’s alike.

 

In this fantasy, her grandfather hadn’t gone bankrupt, nor had her uncles, and her mother. Her brothers were still alive, even Joffrey.

 

It became almost fun, in a way, when the patrons would come and she’d go to that space, where she was still the girl who had everything. Where she didn’t have to dance for men just to put herself through school, just to live.

 

But then Jon Snow had come in and ruined it all. He’d ruined it with his square jaw and his gentle hands, the way his blue eyes had drank her in as though afraid of missing the tiniest movement. It had been real, as impossible as it was.

 

People started filing in the class and a beautiful auburn haired girl came and sat next to her.

 

“Hey, Myrcella, right?,” she asked, “Do you mind if I sit here? I’m Sansa.”

 

“Of course not,” she said with a smile. “And, I know… I love your bag by the way.”

 

“Thanks!,” Sansa said brightly, plopping down next to her, “It was a gift from my fiancé - gods that sounds so grown up doesn’t it? He hates fashion so I don’t even know how he picked it out, but he did. Boy did good, huh?”

 

“He’s a keeper,” Myrcella nodded.

 

Sansa giggled and opened her notebook.

 

“Isn’t our professor a total babe?,” she asked, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am _totally_ devoted to Jon but seven hells he’s fine isn’t he?”

 

Myrcella giggled and nodded as Professor Martell came in. All the girls sat up straighter in their seats, including her. His presence demanded it. Sansa fluttered her eyelashes at her teasingly, making Myrcella cover her mouth so as not to cause a scene.

 

They’d sat together a few times before. Sansa was nice and smart, she always had interesting takes on the reading that often mirrored Myrcella’s thoughts. If Myrcella still was the girl who had everything, she and Sansa might even be friends.

 

But she wasn’t, and she was a girl who had danced for a man named Jon on Saturday evening.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wanting to ask before Professor Martell started speaking, “Did you say your fiancé’s name is Jon?”

 

“Yeah!,” Sansa said brightly, “Jon _Snow,_ he’s a couple years older than us, but he goes here too. Do you know him?”

 

“Oh… um…,” Myrcella said, a pit forming in her stomach, “I…”

 

Thankfully that was when Professor Martell started to lecture.

 

She couldn’t concentrate the whole way through class. All around her, everyone else was writing furiously, raising their hands to answer questions.

 

All she could think about was the beautiful girl sitting next to her who was totally devoted to the boy that she’d dry humped into oblivion on Saturday night. Who had dry humped her into oblivion. Who had touched her breast and kissed her shoulder so tenderly. Who had called the sordid house they were in paradise because she was inside of it.

 

When class ended, Myrcella hurried to put everything in her bag.

 

“Hey,” Sansa said, “What’s your number?”

 

“My number?,” Myrcella practically squeaked out.

 

“Yeah, I’ll scan you my notes…,” Sansa nodded sweetly, her face sympathetic, “You seemed kind of distracted.”

 

“Oh… oh… yeah I was…,” Myrcella nodded.

 

“Boy trouble?,” Sansa guessed with a grin.

 

“You could say that,” Myrcella agreed.

 

“I _love_ boy trouble, my relationship is entirely too functional,” Sansa rolled her eyes, “I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love at eight years old - it takes the drama right out of it! I don’t have a class right now, want to grab a coffee and tell me all about it?”

 

“Oh…,” Myrcella said.

 

She looked at Sansa and felt anger. Anger at Jon Snow. Who was he to do this to a girl like her? She was sweet and beautiful and went out of her way to be friendly and helpful. The only girl he should be calling paradise was Sansa.

 

She thought about her parents. How much damage they had done, how much damage had already been done before they even married, the lies that were already between them, the secrets that would haunt them for decades.

 

She wondered how much pain would have been spared if they just knew everything up front.

 

She looked at Sansa, and even though she was a girl she’d very much like to be friends with, she wanted to spare her from pain even more.

 

“Actually, yes, I… I think we should talk,” Myrcella nodded.

 

Sansa smiled happily and they walked out into the cool autumn air. The leaves had changed color and Sansa fit right in with her auburn hair.

 

 _It’s odd, they almost look alike_ , she realised.

 

Sansa was chattering about where to get coffee from and Myrcella’s hands were sweating and she knew that if she didn’t just do it now that she’d lose her nerve.

 

“Sansa, there’s something that you should know… about Jon…,” Myrcella started.

 

“About Jon?,” Sansa scrunched her nose and then her smile turned bright, “Oy! Robby!”

 

Sansa was gesturing to someone behind her with a bright grin but Myrcella was desperate to get it out.

 

“Sansa, please just… do you know where Jon was on Saturday night?,” Myrcella asked.

 

“Yeah, with me,” Sansa said with an easy smile, “He was meant to be out for his bachelor party but _he missed me_. Isn’t that sweet?”

 

“Hey Dovey,” a familiar voice said behind her, and just like that, she had goosebumps.

 

“Myrcella, meet my older brother, Robb,” Sansa said with a flourish and Myrcella turned around.

 

He was the exact same. The same blue eyes and dark auburn curls, the same square jaw and lean body.

 

“Holy fuck,” he let out.


End file.
